


Wake Up

by tuppenny



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Major Illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 16:31:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13217679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuppenny/pseuds/tuppenny
Summary: A drabble prompt from Grace that spiraled out of control: Make It Angsty: “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.”





	Wake Up

**Fall 1918**

Jack hefted his youngest son into his arms and stroked the boy’s hair softly. “Shh, baby, shh,” he murmured, patting his child on the back in hopes of loosening the phlegm that had settled in the boy’s lungs. Theo coughed wetly and gasped for breath, and Jack felt his son shiver against him. “It’s okay, Theo, buddy, shh, I’ve got ya,” he said, swaying gently from side to side in hopes that the motion would sooth Theo the way it had when the little boy was a baby. Jack’s eyes flicked down to the floor, where Katherine was knelt by the bed of their youngest, Josephine, watching her anxiously as she tossed and turned.

“She’s burning up, Jack,” Katherine whispered without turning around. Jack could see the tension written in every line of Katherine’s slim frame, but her hands were steady as she dipped a cloth into a bowl on the nightstand and changed out the cold compress on Josie’s forehead.

“Theo is, too,” he said grimly, and winced as his son’s chest was wracked by yet another series of deep, hacking coughs.

The coughs hit Katherine like physical blows, and she shuddered, unable to face the sight of her little boy so sick in Jack’s arms. Instead she moved to hold Josie’s hand and bent her head to kiss her daughter’s cheek. “Sleep, baby, sleep, your father guards the sheep…” she sang, her voice calm and even. She wasn’t sure Josie could hear her through the delirium brought on by the influenza, but even so, she was going to sing as if nothing were wrong; there was no way she’d risk letting her darling know how scared she was. “…and from it fall sweet dreams for thee…”

Jack wasn’t sure how long the two of them stayed like that, him rocking their boy, her singing their daughter through sweats and chills. It seemed like hours. It seemed like no time at all. His arms started to go numb and still he kept swaying, patting Theo’s back, hearing the sucking sound of his child fighting for air. “Don’t give up, Theo,” he whispered, not wanting Katherine to hear. “You’s a fighter, baby, you’s my little man, an’ I’m right here with ya, okay? You just keep on breathin’. That’s it, just like that…”

He looked to Katherine again and saw that she had fallen asleep, her head and shoulders slumped on Josie’s mattress, her hand still firmly gripping her daughter’s chubby fingers. He bit his lip. How long had she been asleep? Was the washcloth on Josie’s forehead still cool? He thumped Theo’s back again and laid the boy back in bed, propping him up on plenty of pillows so as to help keep his upper airways free.

With a slight groan, Jack crouched down next to his wife on the nursery floor, holding on to the nightstand for balance. Then he leaned over to check on Josie. The washrag on her forehead wasn’t doing much good anymore, but as his fingers brushed her skin to change the cloth out for a new one, he paused. She felt… normal. And she was sleeping peacefully, too—none of the whimpering and thrashing that had marked the last two days. Too scared to hope, he held his other hand to her forehead just to make sure.  _Thank God_ , he thought, crossing back over to Theo.

His movements were slow with exhaustion now, but he picked Theo up again, laid a cool rag on the back of his little boy’s neck, and resumed his rocking.

*

Katherine woke in the morning with a stiff neck and an aching back, but that was instantly forgotten as soon as she saw Josie sleeping calmly, her breathing normal, her cheeks only slightly flushed. “Oh, Josephine, sweetheart,” she said, her voice cracking. “Oh, my baby…”

Now that Josie was out of danger, Katherine felt free to cry. Only a little cry, to be sure—there was still Theo to worry about, after all. But the sight of Josie, weak but recovering, was too much to be borne stoically. So she let the tears fall onto the sheets by her little girl’s head and thanked heaven that their baby had made it through.

Once she’d had time to catch her breath, she kissed Josie’s forehead softly and rose to check on Theo. Her heart flipped when she saw that he wasn’t in his bed, but it eased –though only slightly– at the sound of his distinctive wet cough. She followed the noise into the living room, where Jack sat, fast asleep in the rocking chair, still holding Theo. She eased the little boy out of her husband’s arms and went into the master bedroom, hoping that taking Theo down the hall would buy Jack a little more time to sleep.

Theo coughed again and woke himself up, his muddy hazel eyes fuzzy with sleep and fever. “Mama?” He said, before lapsing into a series of choking gasps.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay,” she said, setting him down on the bed. “I’m going to listen to your lungs, alright?”

Theo nodded and caught his breath.

“Good boy.” Katherine pressed her ear to each side of his small little chest, then to his back. “You sound clearer today, sweet pea,” she said with a smile.

Theo started to cry. “It hurts,” he said, and his sobs set off another round of wheezing and hacking.

Katherine wrapped him in her arms and kissed the top of his head. “I know, baby, I know. You just keep breathing, and I promise you’ll feel better soon. I’m going to tuck you in now, and then I’m going to go make you tea with honey, just the way you like it. Okay?”

Theo nodded again and let Katherine settle him back against the pillows, the thick coverlet tucked in just under his chin. “I’ll be right back, sweet boy. Don’t lie down, okay? Just sit tight.” She closed the door softly behind her and went to make the tea.

On her way back to Theo, she checked in on Jack. He was still sleeping—good. They’d been running themselves ragged over the last week, first taking care of the older two, then the younger. They’d sent Theo and Josie to Katherine’s mother’s house while their oldest two were ill, but then the Pulitzers had come down with the flu, and by the time the older two were well, the younger two were sick. 

The second time around they sent their healthy children to Darcy’s—his family had been struck early on, and now they were back on their feet and happy to help the Kellys. And although it had been a godsend to have friends and family able to help with the kids—they'd been luckier than most in that respect, they knew—nursing your children through what looked to be a global pandemic was no cakewalk.

Theo was asleep again by the time Katherine returned, so she set the tea down by his bedside and went to phone Darcy to see if he and his wife would be willing to take another Kelly child. Katherine hoped that since Josie had gotten through the flu without developing pneumonia the little girl wouldn’t be able to catch it from Theo, either, but Katherine really wasn’t sure about how these things worked, and she wasn’t taking any chances. So, after arranging a pick-up time with Darcy for Josie, packing the little girl’s suitcase, and cuddling briefly with Theo, she got her youngest child dressed and sent her off with the ever-dapper Darcy.  

As soon as the door was closed, she heard Theo’s wet barks echoing down the hallway. She rushed to help him drink his tea and then carried him into the bathroom, turning up the water as hot as it would go and filling the room with steam. Theo’s wheezing started to ease in the humidity, and he calmed down as Katherine rubbed circles into his back and held his hand.

What with one thing and another, it was mid-afternoon before she realized that it had been hours since she’d seen or heard anything from Jack.

After settling Theo back in bed –his own, this time–, she tiptoed into the living room. Jack was still asleep. She tried her best to shake off the tendrils of fear that were curling around her ankles at the sight of how still he was, but really, she knew as soon as she saw him. Jack was sick.

*

The next two days were a blur of running from bedroom to bedroom, comforting her sick child and mopping the brow of her even sicker husband. By the third day Theo was well again, or at least well enough to be sent to Darcy’s without having to worry that he’d infect anyone else, and she was finally able to focus on Jack. 

Jack, her strong and reliable husband, the man who’d clawed his way out of homelessness and poverty and The Refuge. Her rock. Her partner. Her heart. He was strong, so strong, and the Spanish Flu took great pleasure in striking the young and healthy the hardest. Jack was no exception.

By the time Katherine was caring exclusively for Jack, he was almost too far gone to know who she was anymore. He tossed and turned and threw the sheets from the bed, stripping the soft cotton undershirt from his body even as he shook with chills. She climbed into bed with him to keep him warm, hoping that he’d let her stay even if the feel of everything else was too much to bear. He stiffened at first, but she gripped his chin and turned his head to face her. “It’s me,” she said firmly. “It’s Katherine. Let me stay.”

“Katherine,” he breathed, and for a moment the fog cleared from his green eyes. She saw recognition and relief and then a flash of fear. “I’m sick,” he said suddenly. “You’ll catch it. You have to go.  _Go,_ Katherine.  _Please._ ”

“I’m not leaving you,” she said, pulling him even closer. “I will always be here, right by your side. I promised.”

He tried to push her away, but she held tight, and even as the fog covered his eyes again he fell asleep, his hot breath tickling her neck.

On the fourth day she tried to hold his head still in order to help him drink, but he screamed, a gut-wrenching cry that spoke of fears long-buried, and shoved her backwards.

“Get away!” He yelled, his dark hair matted from long and restless nights. “Help! She’s tryin’ ta poison me!”

“It’s me, Jack,” she said, still holding the cup in her hand. “It’s Katherine. I just want to give you some water.”

He shook his head violently and smacked the cup away, yelping when he heard it shatter on the floor.

Katherine sucked in a breath and looked from the shards of glass to her terrified husband. “Jack. It’s okay. Breathe, dear heart. It’s me. It’s your wife.” She leaned over the bed and reached out to stroke his cheek, foolishly hoping that he’d recognize her touch.

He flinched at the brush of her fingers and tried to scrabble backwards, but all he managed to do was slide down the pillows that were propping him up. “Don’t hurt me,” he sobbed. “Please don’t hurt me. I’s sorry ‘bout the cup, really, I didn’t mean ta, I–”

“Jack,” she said, yanking her hand away.

“It were an accident, I swears,” he said, pupils dilated and breaths coming short and fast. He continued to inch away from Katherine even as he spoke. “I didn’t mean ta, I didn’t mean ta, please don’t hurt me, don’t tell Snyder, I—I—” His chin began to wobble and his voice cracked. “I’ll do anythin’ ya want,” he gabbled, “Anythin’ at all, I’ll even… I… just—just don’t hurt me, please.”

Her hands flew to cover her mouth and she fled from the room, unable to face whatever was happening in front of her.

Jack slipped further sideways, panting hard, staring uncomprehendingly at the ceiling. “Please don’t hurt me,” he whispered. “Don’t… don’t tell Snyder…”

By the time she dared to reenter the room, he was asleep, but eerily so. His breathing was far too shallow, his temperature far too high, his heartbeat far too fast. She laid a cool rag on his forehead and her head on his chest, praying for the return of the man she knew. “Come back to me, Jack,” she said, hearing his heart flutter and skip. “I need you.”

Night fell, dawn rose, shadows chased their way around the room, and still he slept. Katherine went through the motions—she wiped his forehead, held his hand, slept by his side, and even remembered to call Darcy to say hello to the children and lie that everything was fine, and yes they could come home soon, of course, yes, yes, don’t worry, of course everything’s alright…. She burst into tears as soon as she hung up the phone and stumbled back into to the bedroom, crying herself to sleep next to her silent husband.

The next morning was almost unbearable. His cheeks had gone from flushed red to marble pale, and he moaned at the slightest touch. Katherine gave up trying to cool his forehead; his whimpers and flinches were too much for her to bear. Instead she shifted to the floor by his side of the bed and knelt to study his face. “Jack,” she whispered, her voice hoarse. “Are you in there, Jack?”

He lay completely still.

She wiped her nose with an already dirty sleeve and took a deep breath. “You have to wake up, Jack. Do you hear me? You have a wife and four children waiting for you, missing you, counting on you. We love you, Jack. We love you dearly, and we… I…” She scrubbed at her eyes and cleared her throat. “You’ve finally gotten the family you’ve always wanted, Jack, you’ve waited so long for this, and now that you have it, you’re going to just… leave?” She raised her voice and dug her fingernails into her palms. “You can’t do that, do you understand? You—you don’t get to leave us behind! You don’t get to go—you can’t leave without me! You can’t go without saying goodbye!”

Katherine slumped over and leaned her forehead against the side of the mattress, taking several deep breaths to calm herself. She could feel the panic coming on, a rushing tide that she had to stop, and stop now. She swallowed hard and bit her tongue until she tasted blood.  _Come on, Katherine, pull it together_. She straightened up and stared right at her unresponsive husband.  _He has to listen to me. He_ has _to._

She steeled her voice. “I’m going to say something important now, Jack Kelly, so pay attention: You can’t leave! I… I won’t let you!” She ground her teeth and set her shoulders. Her voice softened again, and she hated herself for sounding weak, even though she knew that weak is exactly what she was. She reached to brush Jack’s fingertips and felt a tear slide down her cheek.  _Tell him how you feel, Katherine. Convince him to stay._

She broke down completely, voice wrecked, sobbing uncontrollably. “Jack… you… you have to wake up. Please. Wake up. I’m serious, Jack. You need to wake up. You  _have_  to. You  _need_ to. You need to wake up because… I can’t do this without you. Please, Jack.  _Please_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Notes on the 1918 flu pandemic: 
> 
> People age 20-40 had the highest death rates, but if you were alive for the 1889/90 Russian Flu pandemic you were more likely to survive, because that is thought to have provided some immunity for the Spanish Flu. You might still get sick, but you probably wouldn't die. 
> 
> 99% of the deaths were people 65 and younger, which is highly unusual for flu; usually it gets babies and older people. This one went after the strong and healthy. Still, even though this flu killed off hundreds of thousands of people in the US (50-100 million around the world), the death rate was 5/1000 for people Jack's age and Josie's and Theo's ages, so they'll all be fine. 
> 
> Theo has pneumonia because although the flu killed a lot of ppl on its own, it often transitioned into bacterial pneumonia. The death rates from one or the other were fairly high, and due to moving all of the sick people into one area (mild cases stayed home and were unable to move about and infect people; sick cases were moved to crowded hospitals and, on the battlefield, to field hospitals), apparently more US soldiers died of that than in combat during WWI.
> 
> Pregnant women died at alarmingly high rates, and the ones who made it usually lost their babies.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [One to protect Charlie](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14183637) by [Carbon65](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carbon65/pseuds/Carbon65)




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